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<title>Prompt: Hair Braiding Fluff by aredhel_of_gondolin</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573002">Prompt: Hair Braiding Fluff</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aredhel_of_gondolin/pseuds/aredhel_of_gondolin'>aredhel_of_gondolin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hurt Legolas, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, aragorn really sucks at braiding, lots of fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aredhel_of_gondolin/pseuds/aredhel_of_gondolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas is recovering in Imladris, and his hair really needs to be cleaned.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aragorn &amp; Legolas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Prompt: Hair Braiding Fluff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yourlittlelove/gifts">Yourlittlelove</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: “So it’s a one-shot where Legolas is sleeping (recovering from an injury and is in Imladris) and Aragorn is sitting next to him, watching over him and like braiding a strand of his hair??? tooth rotting fluff please!!! Thank you xoxo (strictly platonic)”</p><p>I hope you like it!! It ended up being a bit longer than I thought it’d be, but hey—you don’t write the characters, the character write themselves whether you like it or not. Anyway, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Elrond, Ada! Come quickly!”</p><p>Aragorn’s panicked voice echoed throughout the halls of Imladris. He stumbled through the doorways as his boots refused to hold traction on the smooth stone floors. The reason for his haste was obvious; in addition to his own bloodied and bruised face, he held Legolas, supporting his friend with one of his arms slung around his neck.</p><p>It was clear that they had both encountered trouble—orcs, if the viscous black substance muddying their clothing was any indication.</p><p>Aragorn resumed his plea for aid, calling out again, “Elrond!”</p><p>Legolas was in bad condition. The normally graceful elf was almost<br/>
delirious, stumbling and struggling to keep his eyes open. The only<br/>
thing keeping him awake was Aragorn’s constant ministrations. </p><p>Aragorn feared the worst for his friend. They had been returning from an outing when they had been set upon by a band of orcs not far from the borders of Rivendell. The two of them had managed to fend them off, but not before one particularly nasty brute had cornered Aragorn against a<br/>
tree. Aragorn had looked in despair at the advancing orc, having lost his sword to another attacker mere seconds ago. He’d made ready to dart away, but the orc had come too close, too fast, and was raising its massive axe to cleave through his head.</p><p>But at that moment, Legolas had turned around and seen his impending fate. The elf had swiftly incapacitated the orc, but not without leaving his side unguarded to a vicious swipe. </p><p>Aragorn had seen the exact moment the foul blade had stabbed his friend, the exact moment he had let out a cry of pain. It was the exact moment Aragorn had seen red. </p><p>And now, it was all Aragorn could do to stay focused, in the present. It was all he could do to carry Legolas through the halls and hope it wasn’t too late. </p><p>At last, after a seemingly interminable wait, the rounded the corner to the healing wings. A ragged sigh left Aragorn’s lips and he allowed himself a slight feeling of relief. </p><p>Quickly though, he refocused and laid Legolas on a small healing cot. In his frantic mindset, he barely noticed Erestor looking in with wide eyes. </p><p>“Go get Elrond, Legolas needs help!” He called at the stricken advisor, his usual courtesy overridden by the situation. </p><p>Erestor nodded sharply and left. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p> </p><p>Though Elrond muttered under his breath as he hurried to the healing wing, he was worried. It seemed more likely to have a polite cup of tea with Morgoth himself than to have those two to return to his realm unscathed. </p><p>Elrond entered the room, swiftly taking in the scene before him. Legolas was stretched out on a cot, bleeding steadily from a wound in his side, while Aragorn crouched next to him, keeping pressure on the gash and still unaware of his presence. </p><p>Elrond took a breath. “Aragorn, I need you to move so I can tend to him.”</p><p>The Ranger tensed, startled. Swiftly he turned around, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, thank Iluvatar, I thought.....” he trailed off. </p><p>His healing instincts taking over, Elrond  gently took Aragorn by his shoulders and pushed him aside, but only so much as to give him a view. He was wary to let Aragorn release his hands from the wound just yet. </p><p>“Keep your hands there.... good, like that.” Elrond quickly stepped over to the side table and opened his bag. Rifling through the contents, he soon withdrew a handful of herbs, a needle, and some thread. Setting these aside for the moment, he grabbed a washcloth and a small vase of water. These were kept fresh in every healing room for emergencies, such as these. </p><p>All this took only a few seconds, and he turned back to the pair. </p><p>“Aragorn, remove your hands.” He did so, cautiously backing away to let Elrond do his healing. “Now go and rinse them off in that basin over there.”</p><p>Aragorn nodded dully and did as he asked. </p><p>“Now, I need you to grind those herbs and make a poultice while I clean and stitch this.” Elrond’s words were cool and calm, and Aragorn took comfort in them. </p><p>Once his hands were suitably washed, Aragorn busied himself with the poultice. He nodded with approval when he recognized athelas and pelas were among them, and the aromatic, soothing scent soon wafted through the air. </p><p>Through all this, Legolas kept still on the cot. Though he had been conscious as Aragorn carried him in, he’d blacked out as soon as they made it to the healing room. Probably a combination of blood loss and shock, thought Aragorn. </p><p> He turned around to find that Elrond had finished cleaning the wound and was now stitching it carefully and evenly. Noticing his gaze, the elf lord asked, “How did this happen?” </p><p>It was a testament to his patience that he’d waited until now to inquire. But then again, Elrond was likely so accustomed to treating grave wounds for all his sons and their companions, that it had become second nature. </p><p>Aragorn stilled, the events racing back to the forefront of his mind. “This is all my fault,” he said slowly, his voice cracking slightly under the gravity of his words. “If I hadn’t—“</p><p>“None of that, Aragorn,” Elrond broke in, unwilling to see his adopted son blame himself. “I need to know if it was an orc blade.”</p><p>“....yes.”</p><p>“I’ll need to prepare a stronger tea to ward against infection,” Elrond sighed, having expected this answer. “Their blades are filthy.” </p><p>Aragorn wrung his hands, suddenly unsure what to do. He sat down in the chair next to the cot, only to spring back up and begin pacing with pent-up energy from the residual adrenaline. </p><p>“If you can’t keep still I’ll have to send you out” reminded Elrond gently as he finished the last of the stitches. </p><p>“Is he..... how is it?” Aragorn was back at the side of the cot. </p><p>“He’ll be fine, though he needs to be on bed rest for the next few days so as to not tear his stitches,” the elf lord looked over at Aragorn compassionately, knowing his worry extended greatly to those he cared about. </p><p>Aragorn calmed down slightly at that. “That’s good,” He finally said. </p><p>Now that Legolas was out of imminent danger, memories of the orc attack assaulted his mind. If only he’d been faster, if only he hadn’t lost his sword, if only—</p><p>“Pass me the bandages?” He jolted up, nearly topping the chair over in the process, but grabbed the strips of white cloth and handed them to Elrond. </p><p>Elrond took them and began skillfully wrapping them over the wound, careful to keep the poultice in place. Finally, it was done and he stepped back. </p><p>“The danger has passed and he will recover soon,” he said to Aragorn, satisfied with the state of his patient. “You may stay with him if you wish, but don’t wake him up or do anything strenuous.” </p><p>A sudden thought crossed his mind and his brows furrowed. “Are you injured?” Elrond wouldn’t put it past his youngest son to hide an injury—however serious it might be—until his companions were treated. </p><p>Aragorn huffed drily. “No Ada, I’m fine.”</p><p>A single, perfectly groomed eyebrow raised, highly unamused. It was then that Aragorn realized that ‘I’m fine’ was not reassuring at all, and that he and his brothers tended to use that particular phrase quite often when they were most certainly not fine. </p><p>It came as no surprise then that Elrond insisted on checking him over until he was satisfied that there was nothing more than a few scratches, scrapes, and bruises, all of which looked worse than they actually were. </p><p>Following the inspection, Elrond gave him instructions on what to look out for, and to not hesitate to fetch him should anything change drastically, then reluctantly left Aragorn to watch over Legolas. </p><p>The ranger sank into the chair again, at a loss. Aragorn hated this part. When all the action was over, and the waiting began. The feeling of helplessness, that there was nothing left to do but wait..... and wait, and wait. </p><p>He turned his gaze to to Legolas. The blond elf lay so still on the bed that Aragorn sought out the rise and fall of his chest to reassure himself that he still yet lived. </p><p>In the sudden silence, light filtered in through the window, illuminating the pale face of Legolas and glinting off his hair. </p><p>For the first time since the attack, Aragorn saw the state of his friend. More jarringly, the state of his hair. </p><p>Somehow it seemed so wrong that the elf’s hair wasn’t in perfect array. Legolas would be mortified at the sizable collection of leaves and twigs, not to mention the horrendous tangle his braids were in. The elf took great pride in his hair, and it aways seemed to be in pristine condition. He’d often teased Legolas about it, and only got incredulous looks and comments about the apparently “abhorrent, greasy, slimy state” of his own hair. </p><p>That particular exchange had resulted in quite the amusing food fight. Until, of course, Legolas has gotten sauce in his beloved locks. At that point, it had quite suddenly ceased to be amusing. </p><p>Seeing that it was his duty, of course, as Legolas’s friend, he decided to at least remove the twigs and dirt. </p><p>And so he got up from his chair, fetched a fresh bowl of water and a comb, and began. Aragorn gently placed the elf’s head on another pillow, and started to painstakingly remove the debris. </p><p>After that, it took the better part of an hour to clean out the black orc blood which had spattered everywhere. It shouldn’t have taken that long, but Aragorn was determined to be as gentle as possible and not wake him up. </p><p>Finally, he rinsed the last bit of dirt, grabbed a towel, and the silvery gold hair was once again renewed to its former glory. </p><p>Well, almost. </p><p>Aragorn frowned, biting his lip for a moment. Legolas looked so strange with his hair just..... loose like that. Though admittedly some of the color had returned to his face and now he looked to be only sleeping. </p><p>But, seeing the sunlight glint off his friend’s hair, he couldn’t resist. Briefly, visions of ribbons and frilly pink bows flooded his mind, a welcome respite to the horrors of the battle. </p><p>Aragorn stifled a wicked grin, knowing that Legolas would absolutely kill him if he did anything ridiculous with his hair. So he sat down next to the elf, gently pulled the motionless head into his lap, and began to painstakingly recreate his friend’s usual hairstyle as best he could. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Legolas came back to consciousness gradually, feeling and memory filtering back at an agonizingly slow pace. For the moment however, he was content to feel his hair being combed and braided. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>Combed and braided???</p><p>Purposefully, he kept his face limp and his breathing even, mimicking a deep sleep. It felt so nice......</p><p>Legolas dimly recognized that he must be under the effects of painkilling herbs if he was so willingly allowing someone to touch his hair. </p><p>As he relaxed into the touch, the memories of that morning came back and he realized who exactly was tending to him. </p><p>A slight smile played about the corners of his lips while he continued to let Aragorn braid his hair. </p><p>But even that minuscule movement must have given him away, for the hands froze and a voice sounded. </p><p>“Legolas, mellon nin? Are you awake?” </p><p>Legolas cracked his eyes open to see Aragorn’s face but a few inches away, looking intently at him. But as he came more fully into the realm of consciousness, unfortunately so did his other senses. </p><p>A dull, yet unrelenting and fiery pain seemed to echo and pulse through his side. He must’ve shut his eyes again and groaned, because suddenly Aragorn was making soothing noises and had gone back to braiding his hair. </p><p>After a while, the shock of the pain subsided and Legolas ventured to open his eyes again. </p><p>“You’re—“ he began. </p><p>“Do not try to talk, my friend. Just rest for now. You’re safe.” </p><p>And so Legolas relaxed again, giving into the silent urge to fall back into oblivion as Aragorn continued to arrange his hair. Strange, that this human had come so far as for him to let Aragorn braid his hair when he himself was unable to. It was a privilege he only granted to those he trusted completely, and not many had made it on that list. Ever. </p><p>And if he was to wake up the next day and see that Aragorn had absolutely no skill at braiding and that his entire head was a complete disaster?</p><p>Well, it was nobody’s business why he didn’t fix it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m also open to other prompts if you have something, and my tumblr is aredhel-of-gondolin if you want to submit there.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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